


Random

by ARMEN15



Category: Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 20:14:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14196876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARMEN15/pseuds/ARMEN15
Summary: Stevens' thoughts while Miss Kenton is not at the Hall.It seems this work won't be a one chapter only, I started writing words for fun and soon it became a longer story.The sequel is published here.





	Random

ALL COPYRIGHTS RESERVED TO THE WRITER AND PRODUCERS OF BOOK AND MOVIE. 

SHE NEVER LEFT BEFORE.

She never went out in the evening on her free day.  
She never mentioned having friends somewhere around.  
And friends to see in the evening…If I remember well, ladies are partial to afternoon teas.  
What kind of friend she was talking about?  
I am perfectly capable of serving His Lordship this evening thanks to my experience … actions and words are automatic for me…  
But my brain is not thinking about work, now.  
Her bicycle is not in the shed, like every other evening.

She is out.  
She is still out at half past nine.  
The usual hour we met for cocoa and a quiet talk.  
His lordship has just dismissed me earlier than usual. No nightcap, he said. My day is over and I can go back to my pantry.  
My day is over.  
But I do not want to stay there. Do not want to read something or complete two letters.

She is late.  
I simply know that.  
Seven years with the same housekeeper and I thought we were a good working team.  
She is so reliable, much more than the others I worked with, I must say, but there is something tonight I am disturbed about.

She is sure late now.  
A quarter to ten and I am lingering in the staff corridor looking at the shelves full of books free to grab by staff members.  
She had the idea of the books.  
What if I place them in alphabetical order?  
It could be a good task and another half hour of work.  
It will be a quarter past ten and she will be back .

But I do not want to be seen here, I am supposed to sit with her now drinking a night cup and looking at the dying flames. The fire in her parlour is alive, I’ve set it out and added logs.

She is really late now.  
It rains a lot and she will get a cold if she stays outside too much.  
The night is chillier than usual, summer is fading away too fast this year.  
The rain will cover the sound of her bicycle from the open door. Thunders in the distance, too.  
Dogs barking. It could be her….no, a big bird disturbed the dogs.

I should have asked her at what time she would be back; a perfectly logical question considering tomorrow six guests will arrive for the weekend.  
But I was at a loss for words when she told be about her evening out.

The truth is she never went out in seven years except for two funerals … just like me.

The kitchen is empty so I can prepare cocoa all by myself.  
I think everybody is asleep in this house, except me, at half past ten.  
At what time it will be considered proper to call the police?  
Sure tomorrow they will report to Lord Darlington and I do not want to bother his lordhip.the clock is running too fast toward 11, the deadline I’ve decided.  
If she is not back by that time, I will make the call.  
Cocoa burns on my tongue., forgot the sugar, too. Not a good idea. She pours it when it is conveniently warm, always.  
Why she is so late?  
Something has happened? Or…somebody?  
Too much rain for her? She will never spend the night outside, our mornings starts too early.

Why she is not here? Never before I remember such a situation ..something must have happened, I’m sure!  
I cannot take the Daimler and go searching, it is too late, the noise will wake his lordship.  
Lord Darlington often tell me I can use the Daimler on my free days if he is not here or if there are special needs …it could be my first.  
But if she is not well? If she fell?  
Back at the service door, the darkness is too much.  
She is a resourceful woman and I trust her….this time something is not right.  
If I take my raincoat and my umbrella and walk to the main gate ..some action is what I need tonight.  
She must give me an explanation as soon as she arrive, a logical answer to my questions.  
Last week we discussed again about flowers for my desk, ending up in amicable terms….not the afternoon so embarrassing when she though I was reading a racy book. 

I simply asked her to use a smaller vase since I had papers all over my desk; she accepted to change the vase but not the flowers or the composition and the result was a little…crowded.  
I like the perfume of her flowers, the scent of summer for me, each Wednesday new flowers from the garden or the orchard.  
The daisies and bluebells I have now are still lasting., although yesterday she did not changed them.  
Yes she did not come to my office and it was strange,  
Was she angry with me ? Could she forget my flowers so easily? I refused only once, then always accepted them.  
Did she forget the flowers because she had to go out tonight? Did she forget me?  
I was looking forward her choice of colours and I believe every bunch meant something she wanted to tell me.  
Just when she got a thistle out of nowhere when I disagreed over a new possible maid.  
Should my flowers get dry without new ones?  
Who else will take time to collect flowers for me? 

The clock is very close to 11 now.  
I cannot stay near the back door all night .  
I have to make the call.. I do not want, but I must…  
And the rattle of iron against stone wakes me up  
She is coming, slowly, approaching the well, pushing the bicycle along the garage hedgerows. 

I let out the breath I am holding and let my umbrella to the floor.  
I am relieved to see her without making that difficult call..  
She hasn’t noticed me yet, she is walking with a great effort.  
I cross the distance between us but my steps are covered by the sound of the rain  
“Miss Kenton!.”  
Only now she hears me and stops immediately  
“Mr Stevens, what are you doing here? “  
“I was waiting for your return.”  
I took the bicycle from her hands and lead both of us toward the garage.  
She dose not refuse but follows me and explains.  
“The chain broke as soon as I left the village and I was not able to fix it.”  
“You walked all the way? Your raincoat is soaked.”  
She nodded.  
“Are you tired? Better if we get inside now, tomorrow George will repair the chain. I don’t want you to get a cold.”  
“Thanks, in fact I am very tired. It has been a long and wet walk. A little too much for me, like the bad evening I have had.”  
“I am sorry, but if I offer you a warm fire and a special cup of cocoa, would you reconsider your tiredness? “  
Miss Kenton lifted her head up, looked at me like in a strange way and smiled.  
“I think it is what I need, more than everything.” She answered. ”Thanks, Mr. Stevens, thanks for everything.”  
Her words were enough for me, I took her wet hat while she hooked the raincoat, placed my forgotten umbrella into the vase and together we walked toward her parlour.  
No questions for the moment, maybe tomorrow I could dare.  
I just let my shoulder be closer then usual to hers, just let my fingers brush her wrist, just to be sure she was real.  
Because now she was back where she belonged.


End file.
